


LOLA

by Axolotl7



Series: Fluffy one-shots - Six Months May was "Away" from Shield [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 21:07:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5064160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Axolotl7/pseuds/Axolotl7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>If he can’t be there to protect Melinda then he’s going to make sure she has the best protection he can provide.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>A soppy little fic for the six months gap pre-series 3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	LOLA

He sits waiting, unconcealed behind the bulletproof windshield of his second favourite female watching as his first sits on a wooden bench in the small park where he’s finally tracked her down. He’s not trying to hide from her, the bright red doesn’t really meet the requirements for non-descript, and even if he were he’s almost certain that she’d clock him anyway. She’s a little bit amazing like that. 

He’s agreed to give her space. It’s the only reason he’s still sitting here, still just watching - that’s what he tries to convince himself of anyway. He’s quite aware of his capacity to spin his own mind a prettier tale than the heart-wrenching truth.

So, he sits and he watches and waits... and hopes. Hopes that she’ll choose to approach now he’s made the first step.

He can’t but help run his fingers across the sill of the door, caressing absent-mindedly as he tries to re-order his thoughts, tries to distract himself from the bleak concern that she might not.

She's stunning, she really is. All feminine sleekness, grace and beauty.

Even if he wasn’t particularly looking for her, even if he didn’t know her, he’d almost certainly notice her. She can't hide in plain sight like himself. Non-descript is not in her makeup. Eyes follow where she passes, attention drawn like a moth to a flame. 

He's not blinded by the light. He sees all of her, appreciates all of her - the light source and the fire beneath.

He knows that to fly too close could end with him burnt.

He hovers nearby anyway, too close perhaps but unwilling to drift away from temptation. 

He dares himself most days to touch her, to see if the fire is a hot as he imagines, until prudence intervenes. Better to enjoy her glow and nothing more than to risk losing the light altogether.

 

Ensnared by her beauty, others don't appreciate the danger beneath the obvious.

She's a weapon. As deadly as she is beautiful. 

She is not to be underestimated. Those that do, get burnt.

 

She’ll take a bullet. Hell! She’ll take more than one and keep on kicking, keep on doing her job. She’ll place herself between anyone and danger -directly in the line of fire if it means keeping someone else from getting shot. To his mind, she embodies the very essence of Shield – she is ‘protection.’ 

And if the worst comes then she can get them both the hell out of dodge. 

He loves this car.

Her ability to protect the woman he loves is what he loves about her most of all. 

If he can’t be there to protect Melinda then he’s going to make sure she has the best protection he can provide. That means Lola. 

Even if it does break his heart to let her leave. 

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

“Were you ever going to come over?” she asks after seating herself in the driver’s side that was left empty when he ordered Skye to go collect May’s bike and ride it back to the quinjet.

“I wasn’t sure you’d want company,” he replies honestly. She doesn’t say she does. She doesn’t say that she doesn’t either though so that’s progress right? That she doesn’t get out and leave is the most obvious clue. He doesn’t doubt that she would if she didn’t want to speak with him. He’d left her the option not to come over to him at all if that was what she’d preferred. He’s pleased she approached even if she’s yet to look directly at him, keeping her face turned towards the little park, watching as children feed ducks, fall off bikes and generally cause a nuisance of themselves. It’s not a place he’d expect to find her. 

“How is he?” he asks simply to break the silence that is beginning to turn uncomfortable.

“Broken hip, concussion, a few bruises and scrapes,” she reports in a monotone. Relatively minor injuries compared to what they deal with, par for the course. Her carefully blank tone says she’s upset about it, says it’s worse when the injuries aren’t sustained in the line of duty, when it’s a civilian, when it’s her father.

“How is he?” he repeats.

She snorts a humourless laugh before answering him, “He’s stubborn, argumentative, irritable, and thinks that his body is capable of doing far more than he should.” 

He smiles at that, she’s pretty much just described her own behaviour every time she suffers an injury irrespective of the severity. She glares at him out of the corner of her eye and he can’t help but say it anyway, “He’s a Ma-”

“I presume I have my interfering mother to blame for this visit?” she interrupts before he can get himself into any more trouble.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he hedges.

“I know she called you.” The woman knows everything.

“She did,” he readily agrees, “but I’d never call her ‘interfering’.” 

That makes her laugh and finally turn to face him properly. She’s beautiful when she laughs. “You’re not still scared of her?” she teases and oh how he’s missed her teasing.

“I am sensibly cautious when it comes to insulting any of the May women,” he replies on rote. 

“I don’t seem to recall you being sensibly cautious about anything,” she jibes back but before she’s even finished the sentence her expression has changed, become more serious, more contemplative. He knows she’s thinking about how his lack of caution almost cost him his life. 

Again.

He raises the keys up to dangle; clanking lightly in front of her face to interrupt the trail her thoughts are travelling before they turn any darker. She frowns lightly in question, looking from the keys with their little Captain America shield key ring to him and back again. 

“You’ll need a car,” is all he says in explanation. She more than most knows what Lola means to him.

“Phil, I-”

“Your dad has a broken hip, Melinda,” he interrupts quickly before she can politely refuse. 

“Phil-”

“From a car accident no less,” he continues, aware that his tone may well be giving away how important her acceptance is to him. “He is not going to be comfortable clinging on to the back of your bike as you drive at break neck speeds weaving in and out of traffic. You need a car.”

“I could-”

“You know she’s a sweet ride. Not just that but she’s got top of the range tech, she’ll keep you and your dad safer than any car you could just turn around and buy off the lot.” 

_“‘Sweet ride’?”_

“I can’t even drive a stick at the moment. She’d just be sitting bored hanging around the garage.” 

“Bore-”

“She needs to be out in the open air, enjoying life a little.”

“I might not-”

“You could take her out for a spin for me, let her stretch her legs a little, get that engine purring...”

“I don’t need-”

“Melinda,” he interrupts a little more forcibly. They both know she’s only arguing for arguing’s sake now. That she doesn’t want him to be parted from Lola is heart-warming; she knows how much Lola means to him.

“Phil-lip,” she overly enunciates, mocking him.

“Will you take Lola please?” he caves, exasperated by her attempts to find excuses not to take Lola from him when it’s so important to him – he needs her to take Lola. He needs her to do this for him. For herself. Lola is good - she’s a beauty, a weapon underestimated, protection and getaway vehicle unparalleled by any other. He needs to know she’s safe. He needs to know that he’s done all that he can to protect her. All that she’ll allow him to do.

“So, I’m doing you the favour?” she eventually asks him, a raised eyebrow and a smile saying that she’s laughing at his passion about this on the inside. He doesn’t mind her laughing so long as she agrees.

“Yes,” he confirms with a nod to back it up. “Definitely.”

“So... if I take Lola _you’ll_ owe _me_ one?” she asks almost cautiously and he knows he’s been manipulated by a master. Her favours are not something to be so easily agreed to – repayment usually ends up involving international travel, many weapons and something dancing close to the line of the law.

How did his mouth suddenly become dry? He swallows quickly.

“Yes?” 

“Okay then,” she says with a nod and a smile, snatching the keys from his grasp before he can blink.

He blinks a few times as his brain tries to replay the conversation and work out just exactly when he lost control of it.

She inserts the key in the ignition, smiling as Lola purrs to life beneath them. She twists to pull the safety belt, buckling it securely around her chest like the protection that it is. She looks directly over at him with a smirk as she stomps down the gas pedal making Lola roar in a way that he’s never intended. “Let’s see what this baby can do,” she teases him. 

He hopes it’s just a tease. Lola might be a Corvette and more than capable but ... well ... she doesn’t need thrashing about at high speeds or weaving through traffic in May’s usual adrenaline junky style of driving. There’s no need to risk her... 

His panic, more like horror, must show on his face because she’s laughing at him. Not the choked off bark or the muffled snort she usually restrains herself to but a proper tinkling laughter that he just can’t help but smile along with despite the very real likely threat of this mad woman to his beloved Lola.

“Are you getting out?” she asks still sniggering quietly at him and it startles him into action. Much as he’d love to go with her, to stay with her, their roads take different directions just now. He steps out on to the sidewalk, closing the door behind him gently, hand still lingering on the sill reverently. He loves this car.

“Take care of her,” he whispers with a last fond caress before stepping back away. 

She smiles across at him, he loves her smile. “I will, Phil.” She knows how much Lola means to him, knows how much this gesture means even if she doesn’t quite know how much _she_ means to him.

“Not who I meant,” he mutters unsure if he means for her to hear or not as she pulls out on to the road with more care than he’s ever seen her pilot anything.

“Protect her, Lola,” he whispers to the wind. 

_Protect my heart when I cannot._

 

 

x


End file.
